To Pick Berries (В Лес По Ягоды)

 

You and I, we’ll go. To pick berries.

To pick berries. Only you and me.

 

In my forest there is a hidden field.

There, the firs descend over a rushing stream.

Oh, the smell of firs and these grasses, dear,

From society, will seclude us here.

 

See that silly bird bow his head to us!

The sun carresses my bare shoulders.

And my braids tangle among all these vines.

Lips and berries all become combined.

 

And I’m telling you, “Please, hold on, my dear,

It seems that I have lost my belt.

The sweet berries, scattered on the ground.

Don’t you see my empty sack?”

 

Me and you, we’ll go. To pick berries.

To pick berries, only you and me.

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